


I'm here

by quiznackingqueen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 09:49:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14590380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiznackingqueen/pseuds/quiznackingqueen
Summary: Sometimes when getting to know someone, some things slip through the cracks.(In which Honerva discovers something about Galra that turns her world upside down.)





	I'm here

Zarkon asks Honerva a million questions about her work, even though he stopped being able to comprehend it ages ago. It’s worth it just to see that light fill her eyes. To see that smile grace her lips. He asks about her favorite places, about her hobbies, and her dreams. He asks her about her struggles, her fears, and her nightmares. To him, these are the important things. They teach him how to help her and how protect her. How he can give her joy, and save her pain.

Honerva returns his questions and more. She asks about his empire, about his people and their traditions. She asks him about his passions, about what he loves and what he hates. She listens carefully to his answers, committing them to memory. She wants to understand him. Not just as an emperor, but as the other half of her soul.

They fall deeper in love with every word spoken. Work and duty battle for their attention during the day, but they guard their nights jealously. At night the rift and the empire fade away, and they belong only to each other.

* * *

Tonight they’re in the Hall of Emperors, trading stolen kisses and stories of their past. Zarkon pauses and gestures to one of the statues, Honerva tucked under his arm, “This was my father.” 

Honerva reads the plaque and hums, turning slightly to look up at him, “What happened?”

Zarkon tilts his head, “What do you mean?”

Honerva frowned, “How did he die? He was so young. You told me your people have been at peace for centuries…” She trailed off, catching Zarkon’s stare and flushed, “I’m sorry, is it a sensitive subject?” 

Zarkon grunted in amusement, “No, not at all. I was just surprised. My father was not young at all, in fact he died of old age.”

“Old… old age?” Honerva’s eyes narrow in confusion, “But it says here he was only two hundred and twelve.”

Zakon nods, “He was.” He feels her stiffen beside him, “Honerva? What’s wrong?”

She pulls away to face him, gripping his arm tight, “How long do Galra live?”

He hesitates, struggling to understand why this is so important, and why it is causing her so much distress. She presses him with pleading eyes. He answers slowly, “Around two hundred deca-phoebs, why?” 

But she’s not listening anymore. She looks devastated, and he can’t shake the feeling that he just broke something irrevocably. She stumbles back out of his grasp until her back hits the wall, wrapping her arms around herself and sliding down to the floor. He’s never seen her look so small, and it terrifies him. 

“Honerva?” He kneels before her helplessly, careful not to get too close, unsure at this point if it would help or harm, “Please, Beloved, tell me what’s wrong?” 

Her eyes are fixed on something he can’t see. Some horrible image that causes tears to gather in them. He calls out her name again in vain as her shoulders shake with soundless sobs. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, and a choked whimper escapes.

Zarkon can’t take it any longer. He reaches out as slowly, and when she doesn’t protest, gathers her gently into his lap. He holds her tight, murmuring softly into her hair, “Shhh, it’s alright. You are safe. I am here. I am here.” 

She curls up tighter in his arms, clutching at his chest and shaking her head weakly. 

He smooths back her hair, and nuzzles her forehead, “I promise, you are. I am not going anywhere.” 

He waits patiently, rubbing her back and rocking them both gently. Eventually the tears run out, and the trembling stops. She finally looks up at him, eyes shadowed, “You have a century.”

Zarkon begins to understand where this is going, and dread fills him as he gives her a hesitant nod, “Give or take a few deca-phoebs.” 

She looks away, clearly pained. “I have five, maybe six.”

His heart sank, “Five or six what?”

“Centuries, “ she whispers, “My kind live for hundreds of years.”      

“Oh, Beloved.” He all but crushes her against his chest as the reality of the situation crashes down on them. He cannot keep his promise. Someday he will leave her. Not willingly, never willingly, but one day he won’t have a choice, and she'll be alone. He presses her closer.

They stay like that for a long time, until Zarkon looks down to find Honerva fast asleep, having exhausted herself first with her work in the lab, then with this terrible revelation. He brushes her hair back tenderly. She looks so peaceful. So content. 

He doesn’t have all the answers. Moments like this make him feel like he doesn’t have any answers at all. But there is one thing he knows with absolute certainty; that he loves her. He loves her, and if he only has one hundred years to prove it, then he will make the most of every moment. He will fill their century with so much joy it will bleed into every deca-phoeb that comes after. 

Finally, he rises to his feet, careful not to wake her. He carries her to their room, tugs her shoes off, and tucks her in. He falls asleep thinking of the five hundred years worth of letters and messages he plans to somehow leave her.

* * *

When he wakes the bed is cold an empty, not exactly an unusual occurrence. Honerva often makes connections or discoveries that she can’t wait to record or try out. Sure enough, a note sits on the table. It doesn’t make much sense, something about quintessence and life force? Zarkon smiled fondly, something in him settling at the familiar scene. This would not break them. Everything would be alright.

It takes him a few quintants to realize how wrong he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my newfound headcanon that Alteans live signifigantly longer than Galra.
> 
> Let me know what you think? <3
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr ](https://quiznackingqueen.tumblr.com/)


End file.
